Holding Together
by sadisticscribbles
Summary: When he finally checked into rehab, Courfeyrac had no idea the direction in which his life was about to turn. Rated for drug use/abuse, language, future raciness, and potentially triggering situations.
1. Chapter 1

__**A/N: So, because I simply could depress you enough after My Rebellion and Fixed On Heaven, here's a drug rehab AU.**

* * *

_"O what, then, did he taste like?_

_ He tasted of sorrow._

_And how came you to know this?_

_ My tongue still remembers._

_Say the taste that is sorrow._

_ Game, fallen unfairly._

_And yet, you still tasted?_

_ Still, I tasted._

_Did you say to him something?_

_ I could not speak, for hunger."_

-Cortège, Carl Phillips

"I hope you don't mind sharing a room." The blonde woman said as she moved along the spotless corridors. _Sterile_, thought Courfeyrac as he followed her, dragging his suitcase, staring at the tile. "I'm afraid our patient rate is on the rise."

"Not a problem."

The woman continued up the stairs, finally stopping at one of the identical doors. She knocked and after a moment it swung open, revealing an unbelievably freckled man at the threshold.

"Hello, Marius. You've got a new roomate." The man stood aside to let them enter.

"And it's only my fourth day." He said dryly.

The woman made introductions. "Marius," She nodded at Freckles. "This is Courfeyrac." Courfeyrac flashed a smile.

"And over here, we've got Jehan..." She glanced at the other side of the room, at a figure just visible under the bedclothes. "How we doing, honey?"

Jehan raised his head muzzily.

"Where's the aspirin?"

The woman put a hand on his shoulder.

"You know the rules. We can't give you any painkillers until you've been clean for at least a week. Unless you want a rebound."

Jehan groaned, burying his head into the pillow.

"Oh my God..."

The blonde bit her lip.

"Has your appetite come back, or..."

"No." Came the immediate reply.

"Okay."

She turned to the others.

"Is there anything else you need?"

Courfeyrac glanced at Marius, who shrugged.

"We should be good. Thanks, Cosette."

Cosette nodded, headed for the door. Marius turned to the newcomer, who was staring around at the room.

"You got lucky." Marius said. "You got the room with an adjoining bathroom." The other man gave a short, breathy sound that may have been a laugh. "So. How'd you land here, or can I ask that?"

Courfeyrac dropped his suitcase onto the spare bed.

"No, it's okay. Frankly, I was living in the slums, dosed up on heroin most of the time, and engaging in some really unsafe sex habits. So my sister dropped me here." He grinned. "Not that any of that's really changed. You?"

Marius settled on the edge of his own bed.

"Sleeping pills. That's all you really need to know."

Courfeyrac nodded, feeling the temperature of the room drop. He glanced once again at Jehan's motionless figure, arms wrapped around his head.

"Withdrawal." Marius explained. "He's got it bad."

"I am awake, you know."

Jehan rolled over, one hand clutched to his stomach. "You could have let _me_ answer."

"Sorry, Jehan." Marius glanced at the newcomer apologetically. "He's not normally like this."

There was a indignant laugh from the other bed.

"Will you fucking let me talk, Marius?"

Marius threw up his hands in defeat.

"Okay, I'm not saying anything for the next hour."

Tensions had evidently been running high.

The blond squinted at Courfeyrac.

"Who are you?"

"Courfeyrac." He gave a slow wave. "And you're Jehan."

"Yeah." He said flatly. "God help me." He rolled over, eyes sliding shut. Marius turned to the other man.

"Yeah, sorry about that-"

"-No, it's okay. I understand."

Marius spread his arms wide.

"We've got an hour till dinner. You can pretty much do whatever-other than take a hit, that is."

"So..." Courfeyrac frowned. "What is it I'm supposed be doing today?"

"Nothing. People that get here this late in the day... you wait for the morning before you see any of the staff."

Courfeyrac leaned back on the bed, closing his eyes.

"Right. Wake me up when we eat."

* * *

When Courfeyrac opened his eyes, Cosette was back, accompanied by a bowl of tantalizingly aromatic soup that had been wheeled in.

"Come on." Marius said. "We're down at the cafe. Cosette's here to unsuccesfully get Jehan to eat something."

Courfeyrac pulled himself off the bed, rubbing at his arms. This did not go unnoticed by Cosette.

"How long have you been going without it? The drug, I mean."

He shrugged.

"Don't know. Couple days?"

"How bad is it?"

"Just some muscle aches."

"Hm." Cosette bit her lip absently. "Do you think you could wait for tomorrow or..."

The man shrugged it off.

"Should be fine."

Marius stood, stretching with his arms above his head.

"Come on." He said. "Let's catch food."

Courfeyrac nodded, throwing a glance behind him as he headed out the door. Cosette was sitting by Jehan's bed, a comforting hand on his shoulder, murmuring something he couldn't catch. Then the door closed.

* * *

"C'mon." Marius jerked his head towards one of the tables in the cafe. They'd just filled their trays and were now scanning the cafe. "I've got a couple friends here."

Sure enough, the occupants slid over to make room for the newcomers.

"Hey, Marius! Who's this?" The speaker, a lanky, balding man, indicated Courfeyrac.

Marius made introductions.

"Joly, Bahorel, Bossuet-" Bossuet, the balding one, knocked over his drink mid-wave. "-and..." He paused. "Who's this?"

"That's Grantaire. Got here this morning." Joly said. Grantaire's eyes flicked up, taking in Courfeyrac, then went back to studying the tabletop. Joly put his arm around him, all the while mouthing _manic-depressive_ at the others.

"I'm Courfeyrac."

He sat by his roommate..

"Jehan's still in withdrawal?" Bahorel asked.

Marius nodded.

"Yeah, Cosette was up there with him when we left, trying to make him eat. Doesn't really matter in the long run, he won't be able to keep it down anyway."

"Poor guy."

The attention was soon turned to Courfeyrac.

"So... what happened to you?"

"Heroin. Slums. You know." His answers were quick, often with just enough information to keep them happy. The phonecalls from his family had prepared him well for this.

They ate quickly, trying not to linger too much on the quality. Frankly, it took Courfeyrac back to his days in highschool, but it was certainly an improvement on the shit he'd been living on before.

By the time they got back up to the room, Cosette was just leaving.

"He's asleep." She whispered. "Try not to make too much noise." It did not escape either of their notice that the amount of soup in the bowl had not decreased.

"Hang on," Marius said as Cosette made her way down the hall. To Courfeyrac- "You go on in, I'll be there in sec."

Courfeyrac just caught the start of a whispered conversation, and then he looked up as Marius entered.

"So..." He said. "What was all that about?"

Marius flopped on his bed.

"I just asked Cosette out on a date. And... she said yes. To me. An _addict._"

Courfeyrac stared at him.

"You know, I've only known you for about two hours-call it an hour and fifteen since I was asleep most of the time- but, from what I've seen-you totally would."

His roommate frowned.

"Excuse me, what was _that_ supposed to mean?"

"You have that sort of... desperate look about you."

Marius glared at him.

"She's really nice. And she's pretty, which is kind of a minority among the nurses here, if you haven't noticed."

Courfeyrac lay back on his bed, inspecting his nails.

"Actually, I really haven't. Don't really point that way."

Marius gave him a triumphant look.

"Then you're not in a position to argue!"

The other man rolled his eyes good-naturedly. Maybe... maybe this wouldn't be as much of a hell-hole as he'd thought.

* * *

When Courfeyrac awoke, it was to darkness and the sound of somebody vomiting. _Get used to it._ He thought as he dragged himself out of bed. _This is your life for the next two months._

Marius was already on his feet.

"You stay with him, I'll get the washcloths." Courfeyrac nodded drowsily, making for the other man's bed. Jehan groaned as the other man sat by him.

_Say something... something that'll make him feel better..._

"It's okay... you're going to be fine..."

The man next to him groaned, burying his face in his pillow.

"Just leave me alone... what do you care?"

Courfeyrac avoided the question, continuing to murmur meaningless words of comfort, putting his arm around the addict.

"Honey, just calm down..." He looked up as Marius came back, bearing a damp washcloth.

"Good, he made it to the bag this time." He muttered, gently sponging Jehan's face with the cloth. The blond took it from him, wiping his mouth with it before settling back against the pillows. Marius picked up the paper grocery bag by Jehan's bed, heading back into the bathroom as Jehan shifted, leaning into the other man. His fingers tangled in the collar of Courfeyrac's pajama top. Marius walked back in, smiling apologetically.

"Yeah, he does that."

"No... it's okay..."

Actually, the feeling vaguely reminded of him of when he was eight and had the flu and his mother's evil-minded cat had called a truce, nestling by his chest under the blankets. She'd completely disregarded him in the morning, of course, but the warmth remained.

Courfeyrac waited a couple more minutes until he was sure the blond was sleeping. Then he stood, or tried to. Jehan was still holding onto his collar. The other man grinned, gently prising his fingers away. He brushed a kiss on his cheek as an afterthought.

It was too dark for anyone to see Jehan smile drowsily.

* * *

"Come in!"

Courfeyrac entered the room Cosette had told him that morning- 824. Somehow, he'd expected to walk into one of those classic Thirties shrink offices. Recliner chair, studious man with notepad... in actuality, it looked like a coffee shop, one of those awkwardly new ones, complete with conspicuously clean upholstery. A young, bespectacled man with a clipboard and pen sat in one armchair. He smiled reassuringly.

"Ah," He glanced down at his clipboard. "Courfeyrac, isn't it?" The other man nodded. "Take a seat."

Courfeyrac lowered himself into the other chair. The man in spectacles offered his hand.

"I'm Doctor Combeferre. I'll be handling your detox and your one-on-one therapy."

They shook hands and Combeferre leaned back in his chair.

"Okay, I'm afraid we'll have to get through a fair amount of paperwork first." He smiled apologetically, handing his patient the clipboard and pen.

It was simple really, mostly medical history and insurance. Once Courfeyrac was finished and the doctor had taken back the clipboard, Combeferre steepled his hands together.

"Right, now, Courfeyrac, I'm going to have to ask you a couple questions."

Courfeyrac bit his lip.

"Okay…"

"Can you pinpoint the cause of your drug abuse?"

"…yeah."

"Do you want to tell me? By the way, answering any of these is completely voluntary."

"No, it's okay, it's just… you know… sort of embarrassing…"

* * *

Jehan opened his eyes, taking in the light streaming through the blinds.

_Must be a beautiful day._ He thought muzzily. He glanced to his left.

"Hi, Cosette."

The nurse smiled.

"Hello. How are you feeling?"

Jehan shrugged.

"Better. The nausea's less intense."

"Good. That means your physical symptoms will probably finish soon- if they haven't already."

Jehan ran his hands through his hair.

"Where's Marius and Courfeyrac?"

"They're at their private sessions."

"Okay." A thought occurred to him. "Could you hand me my laptop?"

"Sure." The nurse passed him the computer. "Tumblr again?"

"It's good therapy." Said Jehan defensively. "And I have some verses I want to post anyway." He logged in carefully, hands shaking ever-so-slightly. "You know, I think poetry gets overlooked a lot. Which really is unfair," He added. "given that it's one of the most evocative forms of communication avaliable to us."

Cosette smiled again.

"You seem to be feeling better."

"And I don't think you take me seriously." The nurse opened her mouth to reply but Jehan cut her off. "No, it's okay. That's nothing new."

Jehan continued to type until another thought occurred to him.

"So... you're dating Marius?"

"It's just one date. Just to see how things work out."

Jehan's brow furrowed.

"I thought patients weren't supposed to leave the premises..."

"We're not. We just sort of have to... make do. Which, in this case, pretty much means a _very_ long walk and potentially some cafeteria ice cream. Not the fanciest thing in the world but... something, right?"

"Hm."

Someone knocked on the door. Cosette turned, standing as Courfeyrac entered, clutching a small bottle in his hand.

"Now that Courfeyrac's here, I can leave you alone." She noticed the bottle in Courfeyrac's hand. "Can you show me the bottle?"

Courfeyrac complied, rolling his eyes.

Satisfied, Cosette gave the pill dispenser back.

"Sorry." She said. "It's my job, I have to check."

She collected her clipboard and left.

Courfeyrac flopped onto his bed, staring blankly up at the ceiling, sighing.

"You okay?"

He looked over at the blond sitting on the other bed, watching him, concern etched in his eyes.

"-fine."

Jehan's lips twitched.

"_And all winds go sighing_

_For sweet things dying._" He went back to his laptop, blushing a little. "Christina Rossetti. You know it?"

Courfeyrac sat up, shaking his head.

"I don't know the first thing about poetry."

"You don't have to." Jehan said. "It's something that comes from here." He touched his chest, and then suddenly reached for a bright pink and orange scarf that hung on the back of a chair, draping it over his shoulders. "That's better." He pulled it tighter around his torso. "I'm me again." He glanced back at Courfeyrac. "What are you looking at?"

The brunette cocked his head to one side.

"You."

Jehan flashed a smile, turning back to his laptop.

"_It's too cold to smoke outside, but if you come over,_

_I'll keep my hands to myself, or won't I._" He murmured.

"Was that an invitation?"

The other man's lips twitched.

"That's the wonderful thing about poetry. You can interpret it any way you want..."

"So... if I were to sit next to you..."

Jehan shrugged.

"Who knows? Why don't you try?"

The door opened suddenly, revealing Marius who flopped onto his bed, completely missing the look that Jehan and Courfeyrac gave each other.

"So. Tonight's the night then, Marius?" Jehan broke the silence, brushing a strand of blond hair behind his ear.

Marius nodded slowly.

"Yeah... but the insomnia's kicking in..."

"Just as well he won't be sleeping anyway," Courfeyrac joked. Marius glared at him.

"It's only our first date." He snapped. "Nothing like that. Not until I'm out of detox, we agreed. If it even works out."

"It will." Jehan began typing again. "You two are adorable. Why shouldn't you be adorable together?"

"Just not sure if this is the night for it." Marius muttered. "Withdrawal and a date. Well. A walk."

"Cosette's a nurse, right?" Courfeyrac propped himself up on one arm. "She'll understand."

"Yeah, but on a date...?"

"Dude, you're dating her tonight, on detox, get over it."

Marius sighed, rolling over.

"Give him a break." Jehan murmured. "He's not feeling okay."

There was a snort from Marius' bed.

"Understatement of the year, Jehan."

"Yeah, yeah."

The blond went back to his laptop, typing furiously. Coufeyrac watched him for a while and then spoke.

"What are you writing?"

"Poetry." Jehan's fingers flew over the keys.

"I should have known..." Courfeyrac grinned. "Hey, Marius is out tonight. We can... continue that conversation."

Jehan smiled lightly.

"Yeah. Suppose we can."

The other man closed his eyes. Jehan sneaked a glance at him occasionally.

He really did look nice when he slept.

* * *

"Do you want one of my scarves?"

"No thanks, Jehan."

"Bowtie. Seriously."

"It's just a walk."

"You'll be fine."

"Just turn on the charm."

"Are you sure you don't want that scarf?"

"Positive."

Jehan kissed Marius' cheek lightly.

"You've got to tell us how it goes!" He squeaked. "I'm going to write poetry about you both and everything!"

Marius grinned, but the smile faltered as a knock sounded at the door.

"Oh my god... Courfeyrac don't- oh... he did... nevermind..."

"Hello Miss Dreamboat!"

It must have been the first time Marius had seen her out of uniform. His eyes threatened to land on the floor.

Cosette played nervously with the skirt of her summer dress.

"I didn't overdress, did I?"

With great effort, Marius found his tongue.

"No! I mean... you look fine. Perfect, really."

Courfeyrac gave him a thumbs-up from behind the woman. Cosette looked relieved.

"Good. I was worried..." She smiled timidly. "I guess we should go...?"

Marius nodded dumbly and Courfeyrac went around the edge of the room to avoid getting pushed out the door. After a momentary mixup- they'd both tried to let the other go first- they were finally out the dor, which shut with a hollow thunk.

"Walk and ice cream afterward." Courfeyrac said. "I'm glad I won't be there. I'd probably die from diabetic coma."

Jehan rolled his eyes, dropping onto his mattress.

"It's sweet."

"That's what I mean."

"Bah humbug."

Courfeyrac looked at him.

"Rent? Seriously?"

The blond grinned.

"You want real poetry then?

'_I don't buy it, says_

_The scientist_

_Replies the frail and faithful heart,_

_It's not for sale.'_" He bit his lip. "It's about religion, but the same idea."

"You're a walking encyclopoedia!" Courfeyrac exclaimed. Jehan smiled.

"I try."

"You succeed."

Jehan whipped his laptop.

"Hang on, just got an idea."

Without an invitation, Courfeyrac sat behind him. The blond grinned to himself as he felt the other man's hands comb through his hair.

"Have you ever fishtailed this?"

"A friend did once, for Instagram."

"You should do more than just let it hang." Courfeyrac peered over his shoulder at the computer screen. "That's your tumblr?"

"Yeah."

There was silence, except for the clacking of keys.

"Do you post all of your poetry?"

Jehan shook his head.

"Sometimes. Certainly not all of it. Mostly I just post stuff from other poets like Victor Hugo or Emily Dickingson or Tennyson... and photos."

"So... what's that you quoted before?"

"Which one?" The blond asked innocently.

"_That_ one."

A smile.

"_It's too cold to smoke outside but if you come over_

_I'll keep my hands to myself, or won't I._"

"Oh, what's the fun in that?" The other man asked and pulled Jehan into his lap. "What's some of your stuff?" The blond thought for a moment.

_"I know a man_

_With brown hair and brown eyes._

_Just friends_

_And yet he's so physical_."

He winced. "Ugh, sorry. That didn't end well."

"No, it was cute."

"Like Marius and Cosette."

"Exactly."

Jehan settled into the other man's arms.

"I'll write a sonnet for those two..." He mused.

"And me?"

"You? You get a limerick." He paused. "Did you run track?"

"Uh, no... I was a theatre student."

"Damn, that was the only rhyme I could think of for 'Courfeyrac.'"

"Don't sweat it." Courfeyrac lazily curled a pale curl around his finger.

"How are you feeling?" Asked Jehan after a while.

"It's slow. Mostly just headaches and muscles aches."

"Oh, it gets worse. And it doesn't really go away."

"So you're not done yet?"

"Of course not. The insomnia and depression could last years."

Courfeyrac looked at the man in his lap. Somehow, the shit that came with drug use just didn't show. It didn't fit. He tried to put Jehan in the redlight districts he'd frequented when he needed a hit. It just didn't work.

"How did you start taking drugs?"

Jehan gave him a look.

"How did you?"

"I'd rather not say."

"Same here."

Courfeyrac's lips twitched mirthlessly.

"Touché."

The blond suddenly pulled out of his arms, Courfeyrac reluctantly letting him go.

"Now go get some sleep. I have verse to type."

"And I can't sleep right here?"

Jehan rolled his eyes.

"Oh alright. Sleep here if you want. I don't care."

Courfeyrac stretched out where he was, leaving Jehan sitting between his knees. It was actually quite a comfortable nest, made of sheets and Courfeyrac's legs. Jehan tried to write something about how it felt, but the words wouldn't come. Poetry and Courfeyrac didn't seem to mix. Maybe because he was all poetry...

* * *

Courfeyrac woke up with blond hair tickling his chin. Jehan must have fallen asleep and curled up on top of him, like a cat. His fingers were once again tangled in his collar, his breath warm on his chest.

Gently, Courfeyrac lifted him off, replacing him on the mattress, pulling the covers over him. Just as he turned away for his own bed, someone grabbed his hand.

"Don't you dare." Jehan murmured.

The kiss tasted like spring.

**A/N: So… box it or continue? Reviews are always appreciated :)**


	2. Chapter 2

"You're kidding, right? Seriously, dating a nurse?" Bossuet buried his head in his hands. "Only you, Marius."

"She's really nice!" Marius sounded as if he were pleading a first offense. "And she's really pretty-" He was interrupted as Jehan approached the table.

"Jehan!" Bahorel called. "You're alive!"

The blond took a seat next to Bossuet.

"Just barely."

"Where's Courfeyrac?" Another piped up.

"He stayed upstairs today with the migraine of a lifetime." Jehan replied.

"That looks nice." Bossuet said. Jehan was a vibrant dresser, almost to the point of being an eyesore, but normally he just wound a scarf around his head. The braid and the orange flower woven at the bottom were new.

"Thanks." Jehan grinned. Not a fishtail, but better than nothing.

There was silence, save the clatter of plastic sporks.

"But seriously, Marius." Bahorel said. "A nurse?"

Jehan swatted his hand.

"They're adorable! They probably twittered like little birds over their ice cream..."

"And made like little bees later on, huh, Marius?" Bahorel clapped a hand on Marius' shoulder. He was blushing excessively.

"No. Not until the detox is finished, we agreed."

Bossuet choked on his drink.

"Hold on, you actually talked this over?"

"Yeah, actually _she_ brought it up."

There were several snorts into plates.

Jehan rolled his eyes, abandoning his roommate to the other's jibes as he turned to Grantaire across from him.

"Hi."

Grantaire's lips twitched.

"Hey."

"_Tomorrow I will start to be happy._

_The morning will light up like a celebratory cigar._

_Sunbeams sprawling on the lawn will set_

_dew sparkling like a cut-glass tumbler of champagne._

_Today will end the worst phase of my life._"

Grantaire looked at his hands.

"That's very pretty nonesense."

"No." Jehan tapped the edge of Grantaire's tray. "It's just telling you to be hopeful and be happy. Or, if you want it in more modern terms- after a hurricane comes a rainbow."

Grantaire sighed.

"You're funny."

Jehan reached into his pocket, taking out a pen. Gently, he took the other man's hand.

"I'm going to write it on your arm, so you don't forget."

The pen traced smooth, black lines over his skin, along with several flowers. Jehan patted his hand.

"So whenever you feel bad, just look at your arm. Okay?"

Grantaire almost smiled.

"Jehan...?"

The blond looked over at the other bed, eyes straining in the gloom.

"Yeah?"

Coufeyrac sighed.

"I can't sleep."

"It's going to be like that for a while. You'll get used to it."

Silence.

"Jehan?"

"Yeah?"

"What's withdrawal like?"

A pause.

"It's shit, Courfeyrac. It's total shit. And sometimes I think the only way to get through it is to find something to live for. To believe in."

"Thanks."

Jehan frowned in the dark.

"For what?"

"For telling the truth."

"Another date?" Courfeyrac looked up from the bed. "It's only been a couple days."

Marius nodded.

"I know, but we wanted to work another one in before I'm totally incapacitated."

Courfeyrac shrugged, rolling onto his side.

"Have a good time..." Jehan called. Marius nodded, and the door swung shut.

Someone sighed. It didn't matter who.

Eventually, Courfeyrac went into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. The shower turned on a minute later.

Jehan watched the door for a while, then turned his attention to the ceiling. Several minutes later, the door opened again and Courfeyrac emerged, hair dripping, pulling his t-shirt back on. Jehan glanced at him.

"You okay?"

Courfeyrac shrugged.

"Been better. At least you're here."

The blond looked away, biting his lip.

"You don't know anything about me."

The other man sat next to him.

"You don't know anything about me, but you still kissed me the other night."

Jehan smiled faintly.

"Yeah. I did."

Courfeyrac wet his lips.

"What I'm trying to say is... you can do that again... if you want..."

"You want us to be a thing?"

"Yeah. That'd be nice. That's what I want."

"Are you sure? Because I've got a ton of shit on-"

"So do I."

Jehan grabbed his hand.

"Seriously. I was on Ecstasy for two years."

"Heroin for three."

"I'm a dreamy idealist with my head in the clouds-"

"-I see life as a high-quality tv show of fuck-ups!"

"I have an insatiable addiction to indie rock!"

Any further conversation was stopped as Courfeyrac seized the other man's jaw, crushing his lips on to his. Hands slid under Jehan's loose tank top, the blond making a sound in his throat. They broke apart.

"So... soon?"

Courfeyrac cupped his face with both hands.

"I'm going to be in detox for at least a week. And right now, what I need is somebody that can make me forget that, forget how much I messed up my body. You... you make me feel like the heroin never happened... you make me feel clean. And the person that can make me feel that way... you... that's who I want with me now."

Jehan stared at him for a moment, then leaned in for another, longer kiss.

"Congratulations." He murmured. "You made poetry."

"Hey, Jehan. Courf."

The two men found their seats at the breakfast table, plastic trays clattering. Bahorel leaned in, peering closer at Courfeyrac.

"What's on your jaw?"

He didn't even have to touch his skin to know what Bahorel was looking at. Jehan had been more than liberal with his lovebites. His eyes flicked to the blond beside him.

Joly's eyes widened.

"No... way..."

"Um... yeah, actually..." Jehan toyed with the flower in his braid.

"Finally! Jehan's got a boyfriend!"

The blond covered his face with his fingers, to hide his blush.

Bossuet looked over at Marius.

"Did you know about this?"

"Umm... not till I got back..." He too was flushed. "I mean... two people... in... bed... together... only so many conclusions you draw, right?"

Jehan bit his lip, not quite hiding the smile. Courfeyrac put an arm around him.

"They told me rehab was for recovering from drug abuse, they never said it was the place to hook up." Bossuet said.

"Perhaps it's the same thing." Joly added. The balding man beside him looked away, smiling softly.

Grantaire rolled his eyes and stood, leaving without a word.

"Poor guy." Jehan murmured. "He needs somebody."

There was an awkward silence. Jehan rose, braid swinging gently.

"I've got an appointment... gotta go..."

The table broke up.

"So... how do you feel... at this exact moment? Physically, I mean."

Jehan glanced at his doctor.

"All right. Not as bad as it was. Just the occasional headache, now and then."

"And emotionally?"

"Up and down." Jehan made a vague gesture with his hands. "I'm okay as long as I have something to do, I think."

Doctor Feuilly scribbled something in his notepad.

"Anything else of any particular note?" He asked.

Jehan shook his head.

"Not really, although-" He paused. "Can I ask you something?"

"Go ahead."

"Last night... I sort of... slept... with my roommate..." The patient kept his eyes resolutely on the floor. "Was that... is that _allowed..._?"

"Well," Feuilly said carefully. "I can't say it's never happened before. There's really no way to stop it, is there? Are you happy, with your roommate?"

Jehan grinned.

"Yeah. Being around him... that's the high point of my day."

Feuilly's lips twitched into what might have been a smile.

"Then I see no reason why we should stop you."

Jehan stood to leave, but paused at the door.

"You know- I really think I can do this now. I think I can beat the addiction. If I pull myself together and really work... I think I'll make it."

Feuilly smiled.

"I'm glad. You know, you've really come a long way from your first couple of sessions."

"Really?"

The doctor nodded.

"Yeah. You'd shut me out. The old Jehan shut out the world. I don't think you're quite there yet, but you're close. I'd definitely recommend the group therapy, though, once the one-on-one sessions are finished."

The blond nodded slowly.

"And... what exactly is the point of the group therapy?"

"It's a good way to regain social skills," Explained Feuilly. "And sometimes it makes the cause of drug abuse easier to face when you say it to a group."

Jehan's face clouded.

"It's going to take effort." Feuilly continued. "But keep this attitude and you'll do fine. I know you will."

Jehan smiled softly.

"You got an A in motivational speeches, didn't you?"

The doctor laughed.

"Go on now. I've got another patient in seven minutes."

The blond nodded, and the door shut with snap behind him.

"Ugh..."

"Marius, I know..."

"So. Fucking. Tired..."

"Take a shower." Said Jehan firmly. "It'll help, trust me."

"Mmm..." Marius stood numbly, grabbing his robe and making for the bathroom door.

"Do you need any-"

"-I'm fine..."

"Ignore the water bills." Jehan called after him. "Take as long as you need. Till you're falling asleep in the shower, even."

Marius nodded again, the door shutting with a thunk, just as Courfeyrac groaned from his bed.

Jehan turned to him.

"How are you feeling...?"

The other man groaned, shaking his head. Jehan sat beside him, stroking his back gently.

"Do you want my ipod?"

Courfeyrac turned to look at him.

"Didn't know you had one."

The blond leaned over the side of the bed, rifling through a bag there. Once he resurfaced, Jehan handed him the ipod.

"Here you go." He smiled apologetically. "It's mostly Indie Rock and New Age, but it might calm you down a bit."

Courfeyrac took one earbud, handing the other one to Jehan.

"Stay with me."

"Of course." His hand closed over the other man's. Gently, he took the ipod. "I have Florence and the Machine, Yiruma, and a bit of Panic! At the Disco, but I don't recommend that right now. Some show tunes too."

"Whatever you want." Courfeyrac fell back on the pillow, Jehan lying next to him as the strains of gentle piano washed over them.

Courfeyrac buried his head in Jehan's shoulder. The blond ran a gentle finger down Courfeyrac's cheek.

"You've been sweating." He murmured.

"Yeah."

Silence.

"What's this called?"

"Kiss The Rain."

"Can we not do this one? This is..."

"Too sad?"

Courfeyrac nodded.

"Yeah..."

"Okay."

More piano, this time of a mercifully lighter tone. Courfeyrac nestled closer to the man beside him.

"Ugh... why'd it have to be me..." He sighed. "My sister would say I'm paying for my sins. Huh. Bull shit."

"Shh..."

Just then, the bathroom door opened.

"Hang on." Jehan said. "Let me get Marius to bed, and then I'll be back. Promise." He brushed a kiss on Courfeyrac's lips and gently eased himself off the bed. "Need anything?"

Marius shrugged drowsily.

"Dunno... I just need... sleep..." He sank onto the mattress. "You go on, not much you can do for insomnia..."

"You sure?"

Marius nodded, toying with a hole in his sweatpants.

"Go on."

Jehan gave his shoulder a squeeze, tiptoeing back to Courfeyrac. He'd fallen asleep, the ipod still running. Jehan glanced at the ipod screen. He'd gone back to Kiss The Rain. The trackmark of a tear glimmered on Courfeyrac's cheek, trailing into his hair.

His eyes fluttered open as Jehan's lips traced the path of the tear. Their hands found each other in the darkness.

"Jehan..." He breathed.

"Here. Right here." The blond crawled onto the bed beside him, nestling against his body. Courfeyrac gently wound several strands of cornsilk hair around his finger.

"_Aye, true, the feeling_

_Which fills me, terrible and jealous, truly_

_Love,—which is ever sad amid its transports!_

_Love,—and yet, strangely, not a selfish passion!_"

Jehan glanced at the man beside him, asleep again. Poor thing. He'd seen heroin addicts before. They looked shells, mere skeletons of humans. He clutched Courfeyrac closer. He could not- no, _would_ not- allow that to happen to his lover.

Almost two weeks later, and Courfeyrac had only just started to eat again. Grudgingly, but then, this was cafeteria food, so who could blame him? Jehan glanced at the man beside him.

"Eat those fries. You've lost a ton of weight."

Courfeyrac rolled his eyes and the blond fixed him with a look.

"Courfeyrac..."

"Fine..."

Jehan turned back to the other members of the table.

"So. Anyone else doing the group therapy?"

"Yeah."

"I am."

"Same here."

Jehan sighed in relief.

"Good. Didn't want to be alone."

Joly rolled his eyes.

"Not that would be a problem. Everybody loves you, Jehan."

"I know, but still, meeting new people... I mean... what about the doctor?"

"What about him?" Grantaire asked from down the table. He'd become more vocal as time went on. "All the doctors here are totally ineffective." His voice took on a ridiculous falsetto. "What shit were you on before you decided to turn your life around?' 'How does this make you feel?' What purpose are they even supposed to serve?"

"I don't know. I've heard some are pretty good." Bahorel turned away, calling to another table. "Hey, Eponine, weren't you saying your group doctor was really good?"

A dark-haired girl looked up, black feather earrings trembling.

"Huh? Oh yeah, Enjolras! He's awesome!"

Grantaire rolled his eyes.

"Sure." The sarcasm was palpable.

"No. Seriously." Eponine said. "He's not as wishy-washy as the others. Enjolras doesn't take any shit. He's helped a lot."

"I'll be the judge of that." Grantaire picked up his barely-touched tray, emptying it in the trash can. "Nothing can help me."

Eponine rolled her eyes.

"There's one in every crowd." She said. "But seriously, you all are going to love him."

"Yeah, but that's just one doctor. We're probably not going to get him." Jehan glanced at Courfeyrac's tray. "For God's sake, eat those!"

Eponine shook her head. "Uh-uh. He runs the whole operation himself. He _started_ the program. Oh, and I should warn you- he's kind of a control freak. Won't let anyone else do his job."

Grantaire sighed.

"Nothing can help me." He repeated.

There was nothing more mind-numbing, Courfeyrac reflected, than sitting in a waiting room. He could remember when he was little, sitting with his mom in the pediatrician's office, terrified that he'd need a shot... funny how ten years later, he'd be perfectly fine with sticking needles in his arm...

He glanced at Jehan.

"You okay?" The blond was in a downward spiral, the depression hitting him hard. Jehan leaned his head on Courfeyrac's shoulder.

"Fine." He sighed. "Just... nervous."

"We'll be fine." Courfeyrac said, swallowing his own apprehension. "All for the best, right?"

Jehan smiled.

"Of course."

The door opened suddenly, revealing another blond man, white coat open to the oxford shirt he wore underneath. Courfeyrac heard a faint intake of breath on his other side and glanced at Grantaire. Almost immediately, the man's eyes flicked from the doctor's exquisite profile back to his hands as the blond moved towards them.

"I'm Doctor Enjolras." He said. "I'll be handling your group therapy."

"Obviously." Grantaire muttered. The doctor ignored this, merely shaking hands with each patient in turn.

"If you'll follow me."


	3. Chapter 3

"So, since this is just our first session, why don't we start off by going around the circle and introducing ourselves?" Doctor Enjolras leaned back, steepling his hands together.

"We all know each other." Grantaire said. "What's the point of-"

"But I don't, and I _need_ to know your names." Enjolras looked pointedly at Grantaire. "Why don't you start? Since you so clearly _bursting_ with enthusiasm?"

Grantaire rolled his eyes.

"Do I have to stand?"

"Not if you don't want to."

He remained seated.

"Grantaire, I'm an alcoholic-"

"Something non-drug-related, please."

"Fine." He snapped. "Grantaire. I... painted."

Enjolras looked at the next one.

"And you?"

"Bossuet. I've... broken seven bones in the past ten years."

And it went on.

"Joly. I trained to be a nurse."

"Bahorel. I got suspended in high school."

"Marius. I have... sleeping problems? I don't know."

"Jehan. I write poetry."

"Courfeyrac. I'm... nobody."

To his surprise, Enjolras didn't question this.

"And I'm Enjolras." He finished. "Now, if anyone has questions, now's the time."

"Why do we take this therapy?"

The doctor leaned back in his chair.

"Because oftentimes the patients have better solutions to their problems than the doctors do. Anyone else?"

"Do we have to talk?"

"If you don't want to talk, then why are you in group therapy?"

There was a murmur of amusement around the circle.

"Well?" Enjolras spread his hands wide. "Anyone else? Okay. Now, frankly I don't care how we do this. It's entirely up to you. I'm just here to facilitate."

A pause, and then Marius stirred.

"I'll start." He said. "And then whoever's willing to go next can go."

Enjolras looked at the rest of the group.

"Is everyone good with that?"

They nodded, each privately thanking God it wasn't them going first.

"Okay, go right ahead." The doctor waved Marius on. The freckled man ran a hand through his hair.

"I guess it's not the most exciting thing out there... then again... maybe that's a good thing? I don't know... but yeah..." He sighed. "I've had insomnia for a while now, and my doctor gave me these pills- you know, to help me sleep- and... I just got dependant on them. Like, I had to take them, or I just wouldn't sleep. And then my aunt couldn't wake me up one morning and... I'd nearly killed myself."

Jehan looked down at his hands. The hollow, matter-of-fact tone that Marius used was... disturbing. He glanced at Courfeyrac, but the other man's eyes were fixed firmly on the opposite wall, as if trying to tune out Marius' words.

Enjolras largely stayed silent throughout the session, simply asking the occasional question that would kick the conversation off again. The others stared at their feet, or their fingers, or the ceiling, praying that they wouldn't be next. They'd only got through Marius' sleeping pill addiction and Bahorel's episode with Ritalin before Enjolras stood.

"That'll be it for today. Thanks for coming. Remember, same time the day after tomorrow." The group stood, quickly making for the doors, as if the dismissal were a joke that Enjolras would call at any moment.

Once out in the hall-

"Are you okay?" Jehan found Courfeyrac's hand. "You don't seem..."

"No... it's... I'm okay..."

Jehan reached up, tucking a stray lock of hair behind the other man's ear.

"I'm always here. If you ever need to talk..."

Courfeyrac bent down for a quick kiss.

"Don't worry about me." He murmured.

* * *

"Four weeks left." Joly said. "Four weeks and then it'll all be over."

"That sounds vaguely suicidal." Bossuet replied. The other man glared at him playfully.

"You know what I mean."

"Yeah, and a week ago, I was about to walk out." Grantaire dragged his spork around his tray.

"Yep." Bahorel smirked. "Until a certain somebody in the Group Therapy department changed your mind."

Grantaire flushed.

"Shut up."

"Don't try to deny it, R." Courfeyrac teased. "You've been in heat every session we've had."

"Seriously, a little privacy?"

"Hey, I'm not saying I blame you." Bossuet said. "The guy is gorgeous."

"Shut up!" Grantaire's cheeks could have been fireballs.

"Ooh, wouldn't it be adorable if they got together?" Jehan brushed a lock of hair behind his ear. "I mean, they fit every romantic trope in the book."

Grantaire rolled his eyes.

"Please. He wouldn't look twice at me."

"But what if he did?" The poet leaned forward, mood bracelets clinking. "What if you looked up one session, right, and saw your own heat in his eyes?"

"Life's not like that, Jehan." Grantaire said. "Life's a real bastard."

"_Mais quelqu'un ma dit que tu m'aimais encore._" Jehan replied smoothly.

"Carla Bruni doesn't even enter into the this." Grantaire said dismissively. "And anyway, her views on reality are skewed anyway."

"Oh, you dreadful old cynic, you." Joly teased. Grantaire only rolled his eyes once more.

* * *

"... and then there was the car accident... I made it, but my sister..." Grantaire swallowed hard. "And I just kind of lost it. Kept drinking more and more until... they found me on the club bathroom floor, drunk out my mind. My parents got me to rehab and..." There was a pause. "I actually thought things would get better. Because... things have to get better, right? Right? Or what the fuck is life for?"

"That's what I thought, after I realized how much I'd screwed up my life." Courfeyrac said.

"I think," Enjolras cut in gently. "That's what we've all thought, at one time or another." He glanced around the circle. "True?" The others nodded. Jehan leaned forward.

"You need something to believe in, R." He said. "You think you're alone, and you're not. There are always people willing to help."

"Well said." Enjolras nodded his approval. "Everyone needs a cause. Well, Grantaire? What's something you believe in?"

Grantaire stared at him for a moment, and then looked away.

"That's okay." The blond said. "All you need is time. Anyone else feel like going today?"

Silence and then Jehan slowly raised his hand.

"I'll go."

Enjolras waved a hand.

"Be my guest."

Jehan took a breath.

"I... I came from a relatively wealthy family... I don't think they really knew what to make of me... they're not really into poetry... or, just the arts, for that matter... and well, I lived in the slums for a while after I left home..." He grinned ruefully. "I guess, deep down, I wanted to be another Ginsberg... I don't know. And I... tried to see the beauty, to find the inspiration but night after night in that club, waiting... and one night, this guy showed up, pushing ecstasy and... I just... took it. Looking at some of the shit I wrote on the high... I think I'm lucky to be alive."

His eyes dropped to the floor, and Courfeyrac took his hand.

"You took drugs from lack of inspiration." Said Enjolras. "Can you think of anything that could bring you inspiration now?"

Jehan gave a sad little smile, glancing at Courfeyrac.

"I think I've already found it."

* * *

"Hey, Jehan?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm out of meds."

Jehan swung his legs off the bed.

"I can go down and get you some."

Courfeyrac laid a hand on his arm.

"No, that's okay."

"No, seriously, it won't take a moment."

They'd spoken at the same time.

"If you're sure..."

"Positive. You need to rest."

Jehan brushed a kiss on his lips.

"I'll be right back."

Down the stairs, through the halls- voices emitted from the pharmacy room.

"... telling you no! You've come this far, don't you _dare_ give up now!"

Jehan peeked inside just in time to see Grantaire seize one of Enjolras' arms, eyes burning into the other's.

"I'm telling you, I can't do this!"

"Um."

Neither of them seemed to notice the poet's presence as Grantaire stepped closer. There was a sharp intake of breath, and Enjolras jumped back slightly.

"Um, hello?"

Enjolras looked up as Jehan spoke, immediately diving for the counter, not quickly enough for Jehan to miss how his jeans tented.

"Yes, Jehan? What do you need?"

"Um... Courfeyrac ran out of meds."

"And he's taking...?"

"Tenex."

"Right, okay..."

Enjolras turned to the cabinets, fishing pills into a dispenser. Jehan sneaked a glance at Grantaire, whose eyes were still on the doctor.

"There you are." He pushed the day-to-day dispenser over the counter.

"Thanks."

Jehan threw another look over his shoulder as he left. Enjolras had stayed behind the counter, color still flooding his cheeks. His eyes were fixed firmly on a spot above Grantaire's head.

It was several seconds later, when Jehan was farther down the hall, that their voices rose again.

"... Of course I care!"

"But do you care as much as I do?"

"What do-"

The voices fell silent. Jehan fought the urge to take another peek. A moment later-

"... completely inappropriate..." The sound trailed away. Jehan gave the door one final glance and headed for the stairs.

* * *

"Courfeyrac, we haven't heard from you." Enjolras turned his piercing blue gaze onto the other man. "Unless you'd like to wait?"

"No." Courfeyrac swallowed. "Might as well." Biting his lip, he glanced at Jehan for a moment, and then began.

"So... there was this guy at my highschool, right? Hot as hell... everybody wanted him... he came out bi in our sophomore year... and a month later he asked me out. And I should have said no, hell, I should have said no to a lot of things... and I should have known the moment we pulled into that alley, but... he was hot and I wanted to keep him for more than one night... so I took what he bought me. And every date we had, we took a heroin hit... sometimes-" He nodded at Jehan. "-Ecstasy too, so we could still fuck." He shrugged. "He dropped me a month later but... I couldn't drop the drug." A sigh. "And all 'cause I wanted Mr. Slut in my ass for a little longer."

"Courfeyrac..." A light hand brushed his own.

"I mean, it's such a lame excuse, your sister died, you got hung up on your meds... and I ended up a junkie because I just couldn't say no." He buried his face in his hands. "God, I sound like a middle school textbook."

Enjolras leaned forward.

"I think you need to stop thinking of this as your fault. This guy asked you out and then offered you heroin. You were just a fool in love. It was your first date. I don't think any of us would have expected you to say no."

"A fool in lust." Courfeyrac muttered. "And so I end up in rehab." He glanced up at at the ceiling. "Thanks Jayden. Totally feeling the love."

Joly ran a hand through his hair.

"Yeah. And I think it's good riddance the bastard dumped you."

"And not everything's been terrible here, has it?" Marius said, with a pointed look at Jehan. Courfeyrac smiled weakly.

"Of course not." He took Jehan's hand. "Good things do happen."

"That's the mindset you need." Enjolras said. "What you all need, really. Your life isn't ruined just because of one mistake."

* * *

"Mmmm..."

Grantaire ran a hand up Enjolras' pale hip. The doctor smiled, greeting him with a wet, sloppy kiss.

"Have to say... you kind of scared me the other day in the pharmacy. I thought you were going to walk out on me. You know, when I-"

"Just because I said it was innappropriate," said Enjolras. "Doesn't mean I didn't want you to do it again." He trailed his lips into the other man's collarbone as Grantaire shifted position, sighing, body sticking slightly to the leather sofa. They were in one of the therapy rooms, which were never used after seven pm. As long as they stayed relatively quiet, Enjolras had said, they would be uninterrupted.

The blond propped himself up on one elbow.

"I hope you realize that I could get fired for this."

"Aren't you running- no, forget running, you _are_ the group program. Aren't you pretty much irreplaceable?"

"_Nobody's_ irreplaceable."

They were silent for a while. Grantaire pulled the blond closer, one leg flopping lazily over him. Enjolras sighed contentedly. Skin warmed from love-making was a welcome change from a day spent in air-conditioned hell.

"Wish there was a way I could help you..." He mumbled.

Grantaire's mouth ran down the other man's bare shoulder.

"You already have..."

"No. I mean, all of you." Enjolras sat up properly. "I want to... I don't know... I just feel like I'm not getting through. Some of you get it. Jehan... Jehan could probably go home now and he'd be fine... maybe Bahorel too... but the others- and yes, that includes you- I'm not so sure. I have to make you see... there _is_ a life for you out there. One that doesn't involve narcotics."

"I do know that." Grantaire covered Enjolras' hand with his own. "And I know I can make that life a reality... if you're a part of it."

Enjolras melted into another kiss.

"I think we have about an hour before I have to be back in my room..." Grantaire murmured.

The blond grinned, cat-like; a far cry from the gentle smile he wore in therapy sessions.

"What did you have in mind?"

"Let me put it like this-" Grantaire moved his mouth to the doctor's ear. "I can show you better than I can tell you."

* * *

Thin fingers combed through dark curls.

"How are you feeling?" Jehan murmured. "You looked... broken... at the session today."

Courfeyrac looked up from the blond's lap.

"Just embarassed... and angry at myself."

"You heard Enjolras. None of us blame you. If I was in that situation, I'd do the same thing."

"No, you wouldn't, Jehan. You're smarter than that."

"You were a sophomore." Jehan leaned foward, blond hair falling over the other man's face. "Your brains were soggy anyway."

Courfeyrac grinned.

"Umm... thanks?"

They both laughed until Jehan put a finger to the dark-haired man's lips.

"We need to be quiet. Marius is trying to sleep."

Courfeyrac pulled his head out of the blond's lap, smiling.

"Then come, I will stop your mouth."

"Good, the poetry lessons _have_ rubbed-" Jehan was cut off by the kiss. Courfeyrac dragged his lips down the blond's throat, over his chest, taking a nipple in his mouth. Jehan arched his back, groaning softly.

"I meant that..." He muttered. "What I said the other day. I could write..._ ugh_... a thousand poems ... about you..."

Courfeyrac did not reply, bringing his mouth back to Jehan's. After a drawn-out kiss, he sat back and spoke.

"Jehan?"

"Yeah?"

"I don't think this is working."

Jehan trailed a finger down the other man's cheek.

"What's not?"

Courfeyrac gestured around the room.

"This. I still need that hit. It's not working. I'm never going to get better."

"Yeah, you will. It just takes time."

"But how much time will it take?" Courfeyrac fell back on the bed. "I _want_ to be clean. I want to scrub every scrap of evidence that He was ever a part of me- I just want to forget that I just let Him rearrange my life. But, the heroin's not letting me. I still need it. Like I need him by extension. And-" A tear slipped down his cheek. "I don't think I can do this anymore."

Jehan pulled him close.

"Courfeyrac, don't give up, please, don't give up, not now! Just a couple more weeks-"

Courfeyrac pulled away, crawling out of bed, reaching for his clothes. Jehan grabbed his hand.

"Courf- no- don't!"

The other man struggled into his jeans.

"This program doesn't do a damn thing."

"No!" Jehan leaped to his feet. "If you give up now, you'll only go back to where you were before. You _let_ Him win!"

Courfeyrac did up the final button of his shirt and turned, searching for his suitcase.

"I'm sorry, Jehan- this turned over too many memories. I can't cope with this."

"So you'll just get high so you can forget?"

"Guys, what's going on?" Marius sat up in bed, blinking blearily. "What's-"

"Ignorance is bliss." Courfeyrac fell to his knees, shoving clothes into his valise.

"You'd forget all of this?" Jehan knelt beside him. "Enjolras and Grantaire and Marius and... Courfeyrac, you'd forget me?"

Courfeyrac stared at him for a long moment before kissing him fiercely.

"You've got my email." He murmured.

"That's not the same!" Tears pricked at his eyes.

"And when you get out, I'll email you my address so you can come whisk me away- if you still want to, by then."

"I love you! _Please_ don't go..."

"I'm sorry! I can't do this anymore!"

He slammed the valise shut, and stood. Jehan stared up at him, meeting his eyes. A tear trickled exquisitely over his cheek.

"I... oh god... I am _not_ doing this to myself!"

And Courfeyrac ran for the door. Jehan stood, heading after him.

"_No! Courf- wait!"_

Marius climbed out bed, going to Jehan.

"What happened?"

"Courfeyrac... he..." Jehan dissolved into sobs, hot tears streaming down his face. Marius pulled him into a hug, letting him cry himself out onto his shoulder.


	4. Chapter 4

_"I must go back to where it all began. You waded in_

_thigh-deep, waist-deep, breast-deep, head-deep, until you disappeared._

_I lay there and thought how glad I was to find you again._

_You stirred in the bed and moaned something. I heard a footfall_

_on the landing, the rasp of a man's cough. He put his head_

_around the door. He had my face. I woke. You were not there."_

Jehan sighed, running a brush through his ralcantraint hair.

"No replies yet."

"Give him time." Marius said from the other bed. "Maybe he just hasn't had time to check his email."

"I sent that four hours ago. And if he hasn't had time, that means he's probably high. Or he's trying to _get_ high."

Marius searched for something to say.

"Co- You should come down to breakfast. And- we've got the therapy session tomorrow. We can talk about it then."

"I don't _want_ to talk about it. Ever."

"Breakfast." Marius said firmly. "You need protein." He headed out the door. Sighing, Jehan stood and followed.

* * *

"So, um, where were you exactly last night?" Joly was asking as the two men sat down. Grantaire kept his eyes on his plate.

"Oh, I took a walk." He said.

"Really?"

"Yeah. Couldn't sleep."

Bossuet frowned.

"Grantaire, you sleep like a rock."

"Then I really needed that walk, didn't I?"

"Did you take that walk?" Bahorel leaned forward, smirking. "Or did you pay a visit to Doctor Sexual Attraction?"

"Every time I do something vaguely out the ordinary, you chalk it up to Enjolras."

"That's because that's generally the case."

The other man rolled his eyes.

"Okay! Fine! I slept with him! Happy?"

Several jaws dropped.

"You're kidding. You actually got him laid?"

"Oh my god, what was it like?"

Bossuet raised an eyebrow and Joly blushed.

"Well, I mean, look at him! You can't say you haven't at least wondered..."

Grantaire grinned.

"Guys, you have _no. idea._"

Joly, realizing only four of them were taking part in the conversation, glanced at Jehan.

"Hey, where's Courfeyrac?"

The poet stared at him for a moment before burying his face in his hands.

"I don't know." he whispered.

"Courf... left last night." Marius explained.

Dead silence, and then the table exploded with sound.

"Oh my god, Jehan!"

"What happened?"

"Did you guys fight, or something?"

"If you two fought, I'm going to kill him!"

"I feel horrible, now!" Grantaire exclaimed. "I've been talking about screwing Enjolras and you..."

"No, I understand, it's- it's okay..." Jehan stood, his voice thick. "Give him a kiss for me, will you? I just... really need to... to go..." He ran from the table, covering his mouth to fight his sobs.

Bossuet turned to Marius.

"What happened?"

"I think..." He swallowed. "I think he felt guilty. You know, about..." The others nodded. "I think the memories got too much for him."

Bahorel bit his lip.

"Poor Jehan..."

"Yeah... he's- he's a wreck."

"Is he going to be okay?"

"I don't know, Joly. I just don't know."

* * *

Marius knocked gently before venturing into the bedroom again. Jehan looked up, eyes red.

"It's been a day. It's been a day and he hasn't replied yet."

"You've got to give him time- give him till tomorrow and then you can try again."

Jehan fell back on the bed, hair pooling around his face.

"I can't wait another day." He muttered.

* * *

"Um...'Taire?"

"Yeah?"

"You can let go of my wrists now."

"What? Oh, sorry..."

Enjolras brought his hands down, rubbing the skin absently.

"Honestly, I don't see why you have to hang on like that..."

Grantaire grinned, sitting back on his heels.

"Oh, admit it. You enjoy it."

"Yeah. I do."

Silence, and hands threaded together in the darkness.

"Something's bothering you."

Grantaire glanced at the other man.

"Yeah, actually, I was wondering if you're a natural blond-"

"Grantaire, be serious-"

"-I'm wild-"

"-I'm talking to you as your doctor, not as your fuck buddy. Think of it as a much more intimate therapy session."

The other man gently ran a hand over Enjolras'chest as he tried to organize his thoughts. Gooseflesh erupted wherever his hand touched the other's skin.

"There... Courfeyrac left last night... and, you know, you were saying the other night- about Jehan? He's not doing well..."

Enjolras closed his eyes, leaning back on the armrest.

"No... no, no. Not Jehan..."

The other man put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"He was doing so well... Courfeyrac shouldn't have left." The doctor looked up. "He and Jehan were together, weren't they?"

Grantaire nodded.

"Yeah. He lost it at breakfast today."

Enjolras sighed.

"He was doing so well... I could have sent him home..."

"I know. You said."

"He shouldn't have left." Enjolras repeated. "Courfeyrac should have known it would rip him apart..." He stood, reaching for his now-rumpled trousers. "I'll talk to him after the meeting tomorrow."

"I'm not sure that he wants to talk."

Enjolras paused in doing up his zipper.

"He needs to talk, whether he wants to or not."

* * *

"Okay." Enjolras stared around the circle. "I know things have been bad. I know that we're missing a part of our group, and I know this has affected some of you very harshly." His gaze lingered on Jehan for a fraction of a second. "We can only hope that Courfeyrac can make his way in this world with a surer step than before."

Another split-second glance at Jehan, who stared determinedly at the floor.

"Anything any of you would like to talk about?"

Silence. Some shook their heads. And then Jehan was slowly raising his hand.

"I-" He began. "I emailed him yesterday... but he hasn't replied..." He sighed. "I'm... I'm scared! I'm worried about him! I don't know where he is, or what he's doing, or..."

Enjolras nodded in understanding.

"You have every right to be scared. He left rehab and doesn't answer your emails. Trust me, it's okay to be worried. But one thing you should _not_ do is give up. Obviously, I can't say in all certainty whether he'll come back or not, but think about things from his perspective. Could you bear to read your emails after over a month in rehab?"

Jehan looked away and said nothing. Suddenly, Bahorel cleared his throat.

"This might be the wrong time to say anything... but... I was thinking of leaving..."

The doctor looked up with interest.

"Really? Why?"

Bahorel shrugged.

"I don't think this is going to do much more for me. I know what I did wrong, and I know how to fix it. I should be good."

Enjolras' lips quirked.

"Good luck then, Bahorel."

"When do you plan to go?" That was Marius.

"Couple of days. Just give myself some time to pack up, make sure I don't forget anything. And fill the paperwork out too, of course."

The conversation swam on, but Jehan took no part in it. First Courfeyrac- poor, beautiful Courfeyrac- and now Bahorel... who would he lose next? Would they all gradually peter off, like dandelion fluff and just leave him alone? No. Please. Not that. That was the one thing he could never face. Alone.

* * *

_Chink!_

Marius swore as several bottles of detox medication clattered into the sink. Almost immediately, he glanced out the bathroom door to see if he'd woken Jehan. He hadn't slept for a while- Marius had heard him moving around last night. And the night before... ever since that last session, really.

The blond hadn't stirred.

Sighing, Marius fished the dispensers out of the sink- his, Jehan's, Courfeyrac's- they could get rid of that now, couldn't they? It was practically empty anyway.

Empty.

_But... _ He thought. _Jehan got him a refill only a couple days ago. _

"Hey, Jehan?"

There was no response, and a horrible suspicion began to form in Marius' mind. Quietly, Marius went to Jehan's bed, shaking him gently.

"Hey, Jehan! Time to get up!"

Nothing.

"Jehan...?! Oh my god!"

Marius seized his robe and ran out the door.

* * *

By the time several staff members had reached the room, a small crowd had gathered round.

"Let us through- excuse me-"

"Back to bed, all of you. No need to stand here..."

"Okay, Marius? Show us."

The door closed, and the man gestured simply to one of the beds, where Jehan lay motionless.

Combeferre went to his side, checking his pulse gently.

"Shit." He muttered. "That's definitely an overdose."

Enjolras glanced over his shoulder.

"Cosette, do you have the stuff?" He hurried to Jehan's other side. "I always thought we needed a better way to dispense the meds..."

Cosette wheeled in a tray, full of various medical supplies, as well as a large piece of medical equipment. She followed by another nurse, who went straight to Marius.

"You said Courfeyrac's bottle was empty?"

"Yeah..." Marius ducked into the bathroom, reappearing with the bottle in hand. The nurse took it, examining the label.

"Guys!" She called over her shoulder. "It's Tenex!" She tossed the bottle to Combeferre, who caught it, setting it on the tray.

"Thanks, 'Chetta."

"Okay... tube? Thanks..." Combeferre climbed onto the bed, pulling Jehan into his arms. Cosette joined him, supporting his head. "Left, keep him on the left..."

The other nurse gently opened Jehan's mouth.

"Okay... now!"

Achingly careful, Enjolras slowly slid the endotrachial tube down the patient's throat. There was a sudden shudder in the body.

"Fuck! He's gagging!"

"Enjolras!" Combeferre said from the other side of the bed. "Just pull it out a bit and then keep going! It's okay!"

The doctor withdrew the tube a little ways, and then continued to slide it into Jehan's mouth. He held out his hand.

"Okay... um... nastrogastric?" There was a tremor in his voice that he couldn't quite hide.

Another tube was inserted.

"Switch it on."

There was a _bleep! _of buttons and then a whirr as the machine came to life.

"And now we wait..."

Cosette smoothed back some hair from the poet's face.

"Why would he have wanted to do this to himself?" She wondered aloud.

"I think," Enjolras murmured. "He gave up hope of seeing Courfeyrac again." His eyes flicked to the machine. "It's working. We've probably got about seven minutes or so. 'Chetta, did we bring the charcoal up?"

Musichetta turned her eyes to the tray.

"Shit. No. I'll head down and get some."

"Make it quick!" Combeferre called as the door shut behind the other nurse.

* * *

The moment Musichetta was out in the hall, she was swamped.

"What's happened?"

"Is everything okay?"

"Is it true somebody OD'd?"

"Guys!" She fought her way through the crowd. "I need a path! Let me through, please!"

"Was it Marius or Jehan?"

"Are they going to be okay?"

"_Hey!_" Musichetta's voice cut through the murmur in the corridor. "I'm not answering any questions now, it's been one _hell_ of a morning, and I need downstairs _now!_"

The rabble fought to get out of her way as she made her way down the hall. It was that or get run down.

Several minutes later, Musichetta was back upstairs. This time, there was no need to raise her voice- people got out of her way.

"Thank god." Enjolras said the moment he opened the door. "We've got a minute or so left."

The nurse deposited the bottle of charcoal on the tray.

"Any problems?"

"None so far." Combeferre replied. "He gagged a couple more times, but that's all."

Enjolras glanced at the machine.

"Think we're done." He switched the machine off, and immediately went back to Jehan. "Hold on to him, this won't be pretty." Gently, he withdrew the first tube, plastic dripping with saliva. Then the endotrachial tube. Both were deposited in the metal bucket that Musichetta held.

"So... now-"

There was a groan as Jehan opened his eyes. His hands went to his throat.

"Urgh..." He croaked. Combeferre laid a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"Don't try to get up." He glanced at Enjolras. "Can we give him some water, do you think?'

The doctor shrugged.

"I don't know. I guess so. It'll ease the path of the charcoal, at any rate."

Cosette looked up from her post at the bed.

"Are you okay? You've gone white..."

"Fine." Enjolras muttered as he rifled through the tray's contents. "Just... it's been a while since I've had to do this..."

"You're doing fine." Said Musichetta, and went into the bathroom, calling over her shoulder, "There should be cups in here, right?" A moment later, she returned. "Here you go, honey."

Jehan swallowed, wincing. Enjolras turned back to the bed.

"Okay. Jehan, you're really going to hate me. I need you to swallow this."

Jehan stared blankly at the black powder in the plastic cup.

"What's that?"

"It's charcoal." The doctor said flatly. "It'll bring up the rest of the Tenex."

The poet jerked away, landing almost in Cosette's lap.

"I'm not eating that!"

Enjolras clenched his jaw.

"Look, either you take it orally, or we can stick another tube down your throat. What's it going to be?"

Jehan sighed, closed his eyes.

"I... I don't know..."

Cosette put a hand on his shoulder.

"Honey... it only takes about a minute. And you can have some more water after that."

Jehan sighed.

"Fine. Give it here."

"Hang on, let's get the basin first!" Musichetta laid a green plastic bowl in the poet's lap. "Now."

Jehan took a deep breath, and then knocked the cup back. He gagged almost immediately, wiping his mouth.

"That was... disgusting..."

Suddenly, his stomach heaved. Again. Again. Cosette patted his back.

Finally, the blond looked up, face pale and clammy.

"Okay. You should be fine. Plenty of rest."

Combeferre gently pushed him back into a lying position.

"You should be fine." He glanced at the nurse beside him. "Cosette? Stay with him." The woman nodded.

* * *

Once in the foyer, the three remaining faced the small crowd.

"Everything's fine. We've got it under control."

"You can go back to bed."

Gradually, the patients petered out, till only a few stragglers remained. Enjolras, busy with the cart, didn't register the first tap on his shoulder. After the second, he looked up, wetting his lips.

"Hey."

"Hi."

Grantaire looked at the tray.

"Anything I can do?"

"Not really. I've got it. Thanks anyway." A pause. "Anything you need?"

"No... just wondering if you were okay."

Enjolras turned, giving him an odd look.

"Yeah. I'm fine."

"Really? By the way, I'm not talking you as your patient."

The doctor sighed.

"I don't normally deal with stuff like this. We've been so short-staffed this year... and there were a few times where I didn't think he was going to make it..."

Grantaire smiled.

"You can't save every patient, Enjolras."

"Why not?"

The other man stared at him for a moment, catching the blond's hand.

"I'm in love with you." He whispered, pulling Enjolras close a for a deep kiss. The doctor looked at his shoes, blushing delicately.

"I love you too."

Combeferre, in deep conversation with Musichetta, glanced at the other two men, at Grantaire helping the blond doctor pack up stuff on the cart.

"What is it?" The nurse asked. Combeferre turned back to her, smiling to himself.

"Nothing."

* * *

The bottle on the table was driving Courfeyrac mad. Should he... should he not... he'd bought the pills several days after he'd come home... suddenly it just didn't seem worth it...

He'd regretted it almost as soon as he'd left, of course. That last salty kiss was still poignant on his lips.

So he sat there, staring at the vice on the table before him.

_Should I... should I not..._

Suddenly, he stood, heading out the door of his flat. A lovely, scenic view of the back alley was just what he needed.

No.

What he needed was pale blond hair fluttering in his face, mood jewelry clinking through kisses, the gentle touch of a pen on his hand, his cheek, the inside of his ankle...

But he couldn't go back. Not when the memories were being torn, bleeding, from his mind.

He still had one of Jehan's drawings on his arm- a pale pink rose, darker, purple edges on the petals. The stem was made of tiny words of poetry, in green ink. Courfeyrac found himself murmuring them out loud.

"_And up and down the people go_

_Gazing where the lilies blow..."_

A moment later, Courfeyrac found himself being slung against the wall, a voice growling in his ear-

"Where the _hell_ have you been?"

Courfeyrac turned sharply, throwing a blind punch at his attacker's face. The man ducked, catching the other man by the torso, shoving him on the wall. Courfeyrac did a double-take.

"Ba-Bahorel?"

"Get your _fucking _ass back in rehab!"

Bahorel slammed the smaller man's head against the wall.

"_Ugh! _What?"

"I got a text." Bahorel snarled. "From Joly. And you know what he told me?"

"I- I don't know... God, you want to give me concussion next time?"

"Jehan OD'd. Jehan. Fucking. OD'd."

Courfeyrac froze.

"What?"

"OD'd. On _your _meds." The realizataion was only just sinking in.

"Oh my god, is he okay?"

"No." Bahorel replied. "No, he's not okay. The poor guy needs help standing up, Joly says."

"Oh my God," Courfeyrac pushed the other man away, starting back for his flat. "I need to go back!"

"No shit, Sherlock." Bahorel jogged up next to him. "Oh, and I should warn you, you're not exactly popular right now, so don't expect a warm welcome-"

He followed Courfeyrac upstairs into his flat. Courfeyrac winced at the bright white bottle of pills on the table. But there was nothing to be done about that.

Nothing much to pack either. Most of his stuff was already in his suitcase. As if he'd planned go somewhere and then just given up.

"How'd you get a hold of me?" He asked as he packed.

"Anybody muttering poetry under their breath attracts attention. Especially around here."

"Oh."

"Yeah. And Courf?"

He turned.

"You really fucked him up. He's a wreck. Even before I left." Bahorel leaned on a chair. "Just mention your name and he'd start crying."

Courfeyrac felt his own vision blur.

"Why are you telling me this?"

Bahorel shrugged.

"Because you need to know what you did."


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Okay, at long last, an update! **

* * *

The door of paperwork and forms that needed to be filled out- again- was almost unbearable. Somewhere _his_ Jehan was there, cold, broken, and hurting, and they expected him to fill out forms? When all he wanted to do was run to their room, kiss him, hold him, promise him he'd never leave him ever again...

Finally the re-admittance forms were finished and Courfeyrac was back up the stairs, headed for the room. At last...

He knocked gently.

"Hello?" Yes, that was him...

"Jehan?" He opened the door slowly, to find the blond lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling. "Jehan, love, it's me..."

He looked up.

"Courfeyrac? Is that really you?" He sat up slowly, used the bedside table to pull himself onto his feet."

"Yeah, babe. Yeah. It's me." God, he wanted nothing more than to look at him... he couldn't stop staring...

"I... wasn't sure if I was dreaming... hallucinating... again..."

"It's me. It's really me, Jehan."

Jehan smiled delicately.

"Good." He said, and punched Courfeyrac in the nose.

"Jeh-" Again. "Oh my go-" Again. "Just-" And again.

Courfeyrac pushed himself off the floor, catching the other man's wrist before it struck again.

"Jehan!"

"You bastard!" The poet struggled against Courfeyrac's grip. "You walked out! You fucking walked out!"

"I know, Jehan, I'm sorry-"

"You honestly think sorry cuts it? I screamed, I _cried_, and you still left! I _OD'd!_" Jehan broke out of the man's grip, limping towards the window of the room. Courfeyrac raised a hand to his nose, feeling his fingers slip on blood. "I thought you'd left for fucking good! And you know what?" He tried to whirl around, but didn't make it, crashing awkwardly onto the bed. "People told me it was _good_ that you left! That if you gave up on me, you obviously weren't worth the tears! But I ignored them, I was still willing to believe that you'd come back..." He sniffed. "And now, because of you, I have to go through motherfucking detox all over again, and I'm probably going to have a limp for the next year or so, all because you left and I finally had the sense to give up on you!"

"Jehan!" Courfeyrac sat beside the poet, putting a gentle hand on his shoulder. Jehan pulled away sharply. "I was an idiot, I was a coward, I admit it, and- Jehan, _please_ believe me- I am _so, sorry._.._"_ He pulled him close, ignoring how Jehan fought not to touch him. "And believe me, Jehan, I am never, ever, leaving you again..."

The blond twisted roughly out of his arms.

"Oh, was that supposed to make me feel better? So sorry. Didn't work." He snapped, and limped back to his own bed. There was a pregnant silence.

"Jehan-"

"Are you finished yet?"

"Fine!" Courfeyrac threw up his hands. "If you don't want to listen, go ahead. I'm not saying anything."

"Then kindly shut up."

* * *

Courfeyrac woke several times during the night, listening to Jehan cry softly into his pillow. Listening to Marius toss and turn on his other side. He turned, looking at the blond's form, barely visible under the sheets. So close... they hadn't touched for a week, and now this new torture...

Jehan woke only once during the night, padding painfully into the bathroom. He splashed water from the faucet onto this face, into his hair. He didn't understand why, but he felt better for it.

Marius rolled over. He had a headache, which wasn't helping the exhaustion. Still, it had to get better sometime, right? Things always do. Marius rolled back. He had to fall asleep eventually...

His thoughts were interrupted by a sudden cry coming from the bathroom.

"Huh?" He leaped out of bed, Courfeyrac on his heels as they burst into the bathroom. Jehan was slumped on the floor, blond hair curtaining his face.

"Oh my god, not again!" Marius cried. Courfeyrac dropped to his knees.

"No, I'm okay... I just slipped..." Jehan pointedly ignored Courfeyrac's hand, pulling himself with the counter. "Legs... couldn't support me..."

"Are you sure you're okay?" Courfeyrac followed him back into the bedroom.

"There's no need to freak out." Jehan said, slowly making his way back to bed.

"Jehan, don't do this to me!"

There was no reply, and Marius laid a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"He'll open up when he wants to. He... he lost it, completely lost it- all we had to do was mention your name and he'd start crying..."

Courfeyrac stared at the floor, saying nothing.

"What I'm trying to say is that... it'll take a while. You know?"

"Yeah." He said eventually. "Yeah, I do know."

Back to bed, to wait for sleep that wouldn't come.

* * *

"Hello again, everyone." Enjolras steepled his hands together, pretending not to notice the obvious discomfort in the room as the rehab patients shuffled to their seats. "Courfeyrac, Jehan- welcome back."

Courfeyrac gave him a terse nod. Jehan, settling in his chair, didn't look up. Breakfast had been warmer than expected, but the others had been... distant.

Enjolras wet his lips before speaking again.

"Does... anybody have anything they want to talk about?"

Glancing down at his hands, Courfeyrac bit his lip.

Nobody seemed willing to speak, including Enjolras.

"You know," Jehan's voice cracked on the first word. "You think you're fine. You think you're doing great. You think you're going home soon. And then... something happens that..." He sighed. "... that just knocks you on your ass and you realize... you were never in control... and you were barely hanging on before."

A pause.

"Jehan," Courfeyrac said quietly. "I'm sorry. I didn't..."

The blond glanced at him, gaze then snapping back to his knees.

"Yeah. I'm sure. And this whole time you never realized it was you? Courfeyrac... you were what was holding me together."

Enjolras cut in smoothly.

"You two... are you sure you want to have this conversation in public?"

"Jehan... I thought you were strong- I _knew_ you were strong... I didn't expect..."

"Okay." Jehan said, still refusing to look at the other man. "Yeah. I was strong. _Was_ strong. But I gave all that up when I started taking the _love drug_." He gave a derisive laugh. "Ironic, that. And... I thought it all was going to be okay. When you sat with me that one night, when I was still in detox... I thought... I thought you were the one."

Courfeyrac buried his head in his hands.

"Done. Done. We're talking later. I'm not doing this... not in front of everyone."

Enjolras attempted to guide the conversation- and it might actually have been fun, almost like a game, were it not for the stony atmosphere at one end of the circle. What were they looking forward to when they got out of rehab- and the only taboo was drugs.

"Using my phone again."

"Sex."

"Tv shows. I missed a ton of Game of Thrones..."

Jehan shrugged at his turn.

"Taking walks?"

"Being back in my own room." The others looked at Bossuet quizzically. "There's not as much stuff to trip over." He explained, blushing.

Courfeyrac chewed his lips.

"Being alone." He said finally. "I'm done being so close to people."

* * *

The moment they were out of the therapy room, Courfeyrac attempted to catch Jehan, but the blond pointedly ignored him, limping straight to their room. When Courfeyrac finally opened the door, he found him lying on his bed, iPod in hand. Even several feet away, he could hear the song- some man wailing into a microphone. He couldn't make out the words.

"Jehan?" Louder this time. "Jehan."

Jehan looked at him only once before turning away.

"We've said everything every we need to say. Okay?"

"Just listen to me, won't you?"

In answer, the tinny sound from the iPod increased even further.

"_Jehan._"

The blond sighed in frustration and ripped the buds from his ears, making his way painfully into the bathroom. Now that the earbuds were free, Courfeyrac could hear the song perfectly now.

_... Just got one regret to live through_

_And that one regret is you!_

Courfeyrac winced, as if stung, and paused the song. No need to waste the battery. Then he knocked softly on the bathroom door, noticing the sobs reverberating on the walls.

"I thought..." He said quietly, as the door creaked open. "You might want this." He held up the iPod.

Jehan didn't look up from where he sat on the sink counter by the mirror.

"Put it on the counter and go away."

Courfeyrac obeyed, but lingered, watching him slowly take the iPod, hit the play button, watching as he sobbed all the harder, the music cocooning him in sound.

He let his hand rest on Jehan's back, trying not to be hurt when he nudged away. Eventually, he caved, gently placing hands on the blond's floral-print knee. Jehan covered them with his own after a moment's consideration.

"You are such a bastard." He murmured.

"Yeah."

They sat like that for a while, neither willing to speak. Soon, Courfeyrac abandoned him, making for the door. Jehan sighed.

"Don't you dare."

Courfeyrac grinned, going back to the sink.

"What are you listening to?" He asked after a moment.

"Panic! at the Disco." Jehan replied. "It's good anger therapy."

"So you're still angry."

"More or less." Jehan's eyes flicked towards him. "Doesn't mean I don't still love you."

"Could have fooled me."

"That's why I'm angry. Because I love you. And you still did that to me."

"I know." Courfeyrac looked down. "But I meant what I said. I am never going to leave you. Ever."

"Hah. Yeah, okay. We'll talk in about... one year?"

Courfeyrac stared.

"Do you honestly have that little faith in me?"

Jehan sighed.

"We've both used. You know as well I do trust is almost impossible."

"Jehan... it's _me._"

The blond glanced at him, nodding, a sad little smile on his face.

"Yeah."

"Listen," Courfeyrac swallowed. "Can't we just put this behind us? It happened, I was wrong- I fully admit that- but... I still love you..."

"I love you too." Jehan trailed a finger down the other man's cheek. "And I OD'd."

Courfeyrac caught his hand, pressing it to his lips.

"I know... and nothing I can do can make up for that..."

The blond looked away, tears filling his eyes, drying on his cheeks.

"Come on," The other man whispered. "Let me see you smile... just one more time..."

Jehan hit the pause button on his iPod and raised his head, a hesitant smile on his face.

"There." Courfeyrac joined him with a smile of his own. "There's the man I fell in love with."

A sniffle, and Jehan threw his arms around him, crying into his shoulder.

"I love you," He sobbed. "I love you, I love you, I love you..."

"Shh..." Courfeyrac felt his own tears fall as he held the other man close, inhaling the fresh, springlike scent he'd come to associate with blond hair and bright flowers... and now he was murmuring something... more of that poetry that he'd missed for so long...

"_One is for now certain he is_

_One of the poems that stop only;_

_They do not end._"

"What's that one, then?" Courfeyrac breathed.

"Cortège... Carl Phillips..."

Their lips met, arms wrapping around each other's necks, so eager to hold on... Jehan pulled back slightly, brushing some of Courfeyrac's hair from his eyes.

"Kiss is such a beautiful word... it sounds like... the taste of champagne..."

Courfeyrac could not stop his grin.

"Jehan..."

The blond pressed his lips into the top of the other man's head, sighing into the curls.

"Promise me... promise me you won't abandon me... don't make me want to die..."

"I promise you, Jehan- you impossible beauty- I am never going to leave you."

The blond bent down, foreheads touching.

"Do you mean that?"

"Jehan-" Courfeyrac kissed his hand once more. "This may not seem like it's ever going to work, but... look at Enjolras and Grantaire... Grantaire thought he was going to hate Enjolras, and now they're probably screwing somewhere- Jehan... it's going to be okay."

Jehan smiled, laying his head on Courfeyrac's shoulder.

"I'm going to have to detox all over again..." He murmured. "Basically have to the repeat the whole process. At this rate, you're probably going to get out before I will... but we'll make it work, right?"

"Yeah." Courfeyrac held him close, savoring how natural they felt together. "We'll make it work. _I'll _make it work... we'll... we'll... I don't know... don't know what to say, what to..." He swallowed painfully against the lump in his throat.

"Shh.

_To the left is my roommate, my friend._

_If there is a word in the lexicon of love,_

_my friend and I rarely speak it of one another._"

Jehan brushed his lips against Courfeyrac's cheek.

"_The nature of words is to fail._"


End file.
